


While We Were Apart

by LauraRoslinForever



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Babyfic, F/M, Kabby, Scottish Marcus Kane, Young Kabby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRoslinForever/pseuds/LauraRoslinForever
Summary: Abigail Walters is a talented medical student who has been happily living in New York despite her struggles to live up to her father’s expectations. Marcus Kane is single, has a job he loves where he spends his days playing guitar and scribbling down song lyrics and his nights singing in a run-down pub of his hometown of Edinburgh. After her mother’s death, Abby takes a break from medical school and goes on a trip to Scotland. There, Abby and Marcus meet and spend the next two months hardly leaving the other’s side. But it’s what happens after Abby returns home that will break their hearts and change their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So as you may see from the tags this is younger Kabby. No Clarke. No Jake. There is also a character from LOST because I couldn't help myself. I got a "what if" idea last week and now I have this 21 chapter monster that won't leave me alone, so I hope you enjoy.

_The memories Abby had of Christmas were always filled with warmth and happiness. The smell of her mother's cooking and the sound of her singing were distinct in the air from the moment she woke up and continued throughout the day. Her mother was always baking something, always humming along with some song that was playing while she scooped batter, filled pies, or scraped up sugar cookies. Even when Abby went off to college and then medical school, she would always make sure she was home for Christmas._

_Only this Christmas, for the first time in her life, she was without her mother and for all she cared, she might as well be without a father. This year, she didn’t wake in her parents’ home. There was no smell of cooking, and the only music that could be heard came from the apartment above hers._

_Eric Jackson had started his internship at the same time as Abby. His father owned the brownstone she lived in. Over the summer, a friend of his moved to Philadelphia and he offered it to her, knowing she had been struggling to find a more affordable place to live. The brownstone had been remodeled into two apartments. One upstairs and one down. Eric was already living in the downstairs but offered her the first floor and rent so cheap she couldn’t turn it down. Eric was a little younger than her, incredibly sweet, and oh so very protective of her._

_A familiar melody drifted down below the floor, making Abby smile. He and his boyfriend, Nathan were starting the morning off with Barbra Streisand's Christmas album. Probably up and preparing for their party later that night. She had been invited, but her back had been hurting and she hadn’t really felt all that well these last few days._

_Being nearly nine-months pregnant, Abby had shot down every invitation from friends and coworkers to attend one party or another. It wasn’t that she wasn’t in the mood, although the first year without her mother pulled at her heart with a fierceness that she couldn’t put into words, she would rather not leave her bed if it wasn’t absolutely necessary._

_Unless it was for a cup of hot chocolate, which she was going to need another soon as the one she made not so long ago was almost gone, right along with a sleeve of Oreos. But her bed was comfortable and was getting to the best part in Love Actually. The part where Hugh Grant tells off the President of The United States and then gets caught dancing by his secretary. Was she his secretary? Abby pursed her lips in thought and ran her hand over her belly absentmindedly soothing the little baby kicking within. That small detail had annoyingly slipped her mind, but she blamed it on the pregnancy brain because, as she had discovered, forgetfulness in pregnancy was most definitely a thing._

_She would never get to watch that scene, though._

_Just as the song had started and Hugh’s hips began swaying, a pain, a white-hot searing pain ripped through her middle. She gasped, clutched her belly with one hand while trying to reach over and set her cup on the nightstand with the other._

_The cup caught on the edge of the table and fell to the floor. What remained of the chocolate spilled all over the rug and the hardwood floor. The pain was so intense she clamped her lips together and let herself fall slowly to her side, whimpering, trying not to scream while she waited for the pain to ease._

_Minutes passed and the pain was still there, still as intense, refusing to subside. She may not have specialized in obstetrics, but she knew enough to know something was wrong and needed to get help. With what little strength she had, Abby managed to pull herself up, to reach for her phone that had been charging on the table beside her bed. Her hands shook as she dialed 9-1-1 and her voice trembled when she explained her situation to the woman with the kind, but firm voice telling her not to panic, that she would have help on the way._

_In the back of her mind through the fog of agony, she remembered her apartment door was locked, and she’d need to go unlock it for the paramedics. She got up from the bed, the sight of blood on her sheets poured fear and dread through her like someone had dumped a cold bucket of ice water over her head. Her pulse thundered, her mind raced over all the things that could be wrong, but with every step, her mind fogged, her steps became weaker, the pain more and more intense that by the time she made it to the door it was all she could do to stay on her feet._

_The deadbolt to the door slid easily to the side, and she let her weight fall against the wall as she tried to blink away the spots that danced in front of her eyes. But then, the world began to tilt and she knew she was about to lose consciousness, so she slid slowly down the wall until she was seated on the floor. There, she ran a shaky hand over her stomach, whispered words of assurance to the baby in her belly that help was on the way, that they were going to be fine, and that she loved her more than anything in the whole world._

_Another pain lanced through her and this time, Abby didn’t hold back the scream that rose in her throat. The phone she had been holding up to her ear, slipped from her hand to the floor. She tried reaching out for it, but before she could the blackness took her._

Abby woke the same way she did each and every time she had this nightmare. Gasping and sitting up in bed with her heart pounding in her chest. There were tears on her cheeks because for a moment, a ridiculous stupid moment before she remembered it was a dream she had hope that she would wake to find her baby wasn’t gone. That she made it, that she was safe and not gone from her forever.

But her baby girl was gone, and that tiny bubble of hope popped, because when Abby woke later that night it wasn’t with her baby safe inside her or in a small cot beside her bed, but with her father sitting in a chair looking ragged and worn. His eyes met hers a second before he told her how sorry he was, that the baby was gone and that someday Abby would realize how much better off her life was going to be without her.

That had been three years and two months ago now, and Abby still dreamt about that day. Still woke feeling her daughter's absence so deeply in her chest it almost suffocated her. A part of her that wished she would have asked to see her baby. But she hadn’t, and now all she could do was picture her. Picture a little girl with her smile and her father’s eyes.

Marcus’ eyes.

There were times since when she picked up her phone and wanting more than anything to call the number still saved even though she knew his number had changed since the day he gave it to her. She knew because she called it a year after she lost their baby. She had been heartbroken when his voice hadn’t answered, but she wasn’t sure if the feeling came from losing Marcus too, or relief that she wouldn’t have to break his heart right along with hers.

Sniffing, Abby reached out for her phone where it laid under the pillow beside her to check the time. It was just after five in the morning. She rolled over and brushing her hair away from her face, and sighed. She should probably get up and take a shower. She could never find a peaceful sleep after dreams of what happened.

In the kitchen, she set her first cup of coffee to a strong pour and waited while the Keurig machine did its thing. She had to be at work at nine. Her third year of her residency had begun a few weeks ago and thank God. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take to being under the supervision of Thelonious Jaha. Not only was he the Chief of Medical, but a world-class pretentious asshole who couldn’t keep his damn eyes off of her.

 _One of these days_ , she would think bitterly and walk off in the direction of wherever he wasn’t. Abby reached for her coffee as it finished up. Mount Sinai waited for her as soon as she finished at Beth Israel, and then she would tell him _exactly_ where he could put his compliments and occasional (weekly) offers of dinner.

Or she would just leave and not say anything because he was the type of man who would say something about her departure or hold it against her for future use. New York may be full of doctors, but it would be her luck to end up needing a favor from him or someone in his hospital, and she really would hate it if his resentment followed her.

With a sigh, Abby took her cup of coffee in hand. She made her way back to her room while putting thoughts of past sadness in a box that wouldn’t be opened while she was at work, and any lingering thoughts of annoying bosses aside.

But just as she was about to head for the shower her phone began to ring.

Her brow furrowed. There wasn’t anyone she knew off the top of her head who would be up at this hour. Her best friend Callie could hardly make it on time to her shift at the hospital by ten let alone be up and calling her before six. Walking over to her bed, she curiously glanced down at the number.

“So much for putting away the past,” she murmured, reading not the number, but the name on the screen.

_Andrew Walters._

Abby hadn’t spoken to her father in almost a year, and before then it was only once after she lost her daughter. He had shown up at her graduation regardless of her telling him not to come so that he could tell her how proud he was, and to hand her a check. Her inheritance.

While she still wanted nothing from him, whatever had him calling and so early, must have had a reason behind it. So she answered against her better judgment, even though he deserved being a permanent name on her ‘straight to voicemail’ list along with Thelonious Jaha and annoying telemarketers.

But it wasn’t her father, it was her aunt. And it was only her aunt’s tears that had her twenty minutes later hailing a cab to take her downtown to Mount Sinai Hospital.

***

In a small music studio an ocean away, Marcus Kane wore a pair of headphones while he strummed notes on his guitar as the finished the last song for the new album he’d written. If he was honest with himself, it would be a lot like his last. Almost every song spoke of love and loss. Almost always a song about a girl who got away, always one about missing a great love that was gone forever.

He tapped the end of his pencil on the sheet of paper. _It’s good,_ he thought with finality and removed the headphones. Placing them on the stool beside him, he let out a soft sigh allowing himself to fully feel the exhaustion that had been building these last few weeks working endlessly to be done for a while.

While most of his days were spent drinking copious amounts of coffee, writing and recording demos, this latest project, a second record of all his own songs not co-written with anyone, had been bloody arduous. Thankfully, next week he could return to his normal, more relaxed routine.

“Marcus Kane, do you know how late it is?” a woman’s American accented voice asked from somewhere behind him. He turned in his chair to find the daughter of the president of the record company, Diana Sydney standing in the doorway. As their head AR in charge of finding new talent, she’d been the one to “discover him,” as she would say, in a pub just outside of his hometown of Edinburgh, playing a song he’d wrote about a year after Abby left. She liked taking credit for him. Liked to make sure he knew she was solely responsible for his success.

He didn’t mind it so much, after all, he was grateful for her signing him and giving him a good job doing what he loved. But he knew damn good and well her interest in him went beyond the professional, and if he were to show even the smallest bit of interest, she would use those tan legs and senseless six-inch heels and jump on the opportunity. But he didn’t have one. Aye, she was attractive. He as good as admitted it to his best mate in the pub one night when Sinclair asked him why the hell he hadn’t gone for it yet. The truth was and still continued to be he wasn’t interested in anyone who wasn’t his Abby.

He hadn’t answered yet, and she raised a brow and that movement lifted him from his thoughts back to the present. “Just wanted to finish this.”

“Let’s see.” She walked over to him and took the headphones from the stool beside him and sat. She crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to what he could only assume was to draw his eye. He kept his eyes up though, and eventually, her eyes left his and fell to the paper in front of him. Of course, she had to lean closer to have a good look. Whatever perfume she wore she had to have touched up before she came to see him because it was potent. Strong enough he had to hold his breath to keep from outright coughing from it. It was quiet for a moment while she read the notes and words on the paper. Finally, she straightened her posture and flashed him a look. Frustration mixed with amusement, he thought with a repressed smirk. “You know, I’ve always wondered who it was who broke your heart so bad you spend your days writing sob story after sob story.”

He sat back if not to escape her perfume but to put some distance between them and gave her a wry smile. “Does it really make a difference as long as it sells?”

The look in her eyes told him she understood. He wasn’t about to tell her the story behind his songs and to her credit, she didn’t push it, for which he was grateful.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” she said, then stood. “I’d ask you out for a drink, but then I’d hate my best songwriter to lose his inspiration.”

He chuckled. Well, that was a relief. “Thanks for the compliment, I think?”

“It was. This album’s going to be a hit. Go home, Marcus.” The sound of her heels on the laminate floor paused in the doorway, and he looked over to see why she hadn't left. She leaned against the door frame; her blue eyes meeting his once again before she smirked. “But it wouldn’t kill you to try and write something a little less heartbreaking for once.”

His lips pull up, another soft chuckle rumbled up from his chest. Still, he shook his head. “Maybe one day.”

With that, she did leave and for good this time. He let out a loud breath, and rose to his feet, collecting his sheets of papers and straightening them before stuffing them into his knapsack. His guitar he collected from the stand to put it into its case while sparing a glance at the picture of taped to the inside. It was one of many they’d taken with a disposable camera and later would split between them. One of five he had of just them. His favorite. One that she snapped while they were looking at one another. Smiling like a couple of young, love-sick idiots.

He let himself remember that day for another moment, then snapped his case shut and pulled on his coat.

Spring didn’t have the bite that had been left from winter as of late. Still, he zipped up his coat against the lingering chill and made his way to his car. He was a pitiful sod, and he was fully aware of that. He had been told by friends on many occasions how crazy he was for pining after a woman he only knew for two months and if he really loved her that much he should have gone after her, or _go_ after her.

Jesus, if they only knew how much he wished he had or could.

_She’d been gone for six weeks and he hadn’t heard a word from her in two. The last call from her they talked about him coming to see her in the fall during her break, but now there was nothing. She wasn’t answering her phone or any of his messages, and he couldn’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t._

_A knot in his stomach was twisting his insides, a feeling so powerful he couldn’t shake, a feeling that told him something was wrong. When another week went by, he made the decision before he could think too much about it. Using all he had in savings, Marcus booked a ticket on the first plane to New York._

_When he got home to pack, his mother was there waiting for him like she did every Sunday evening before she dragged him to mass. Not this Sunday though._

_“Marcus where do ya think you’re going?” she asked after him when he told her he couldn’t go and that he might be gone for a little while._

_“But where?” she asked again._

_“New York,” he called down the hall._

_“Ya can’t just go running off after a lass,” she went on because she knew why he was going. He wasn’t surprised either. Abby was all he talked about as of late, but what else could he do? He was a goddamn fool in love, and he didn’t care who knew it. “Stop and think a moment about this, Marcus-”_

_He laughed. Told her how he’d thought of nothing else, and between cramming jeans and tee-shirts into his bag, he asked her if she’d look after things while he was gone. She agreed, albeit reluctantly. Told him she thought him a fool, and he couldn’t agree more._

_Just as he zipped his bag close and was about to kiss her on the cheek goodbye, his phone rang. His heart swooped in his chest, rose with hope like it did each time the old bloody thing on the wall went off and he stepped over to it quickly answering with a hopeful, “Hello?”_

_It wasn’t Abby. It was his mate and sister’s new boyfriend, Sinclair. Marcus listened and sank in a chair beside the wall. Disbelief and shock had him holding the phone to his ear long after Sinclair hung up. He could hear his mother say his name and looked over at her._

_“Who was that?”_

_He swallowed and told her, “It was Sinclair. Aurora and the kids... they’ve been an accident.”_


	2. Chapter 2

She paused just outside of the doorway that led into her father’s room. The antiseptic smell of the hospital which normally smelled familiar and comforting, like her second home, only now reminded her of her last moments with her mother, and when she woke up after losing her daughter. From where she stood, she could see into the room, see her father lying asleep in the bed, and hear the heart monitor beside his bed that made a soft beep with each beat of his heart.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, holding her jacket in front of her like a barrier she needed to put between them. Though, what more he could do to her now, she didn’t know.

“Abby, you’re here.” Abby turned her head to see her father’s sister, Annabell, rise from the chair beside the bed. Abby didn’t move from where she stood by the door, only gave her aunt the barest hint of a smile in acknowledgment. “He’s been asking for you,” she told her in a low voice then, “Would you mind sitting with him while I go grab something to drink, dear?”

She wanted to tell her aunt she was just stopping by quickly enough to say her goodbyes, but her aunt looked pale and tired. If Abby got lucky her father would stay asleep, and she wouldn’t have to worry about having to talk to him. So instead she nodded, and told her, “Sure.”

Her aunt gave her arm a gentle squeeze, then when she was gone, Abby made her way over to her vacated seat.

Her father’s failing health as of late made him look older, thinner, but she could still see the man he was, despite his sallow skin and pronounced cheekbones. So much so that her gaze lifted away from him over to the window. It was still so hard to look at him.

She breathed deep and fixated on the city outside. The approaching spring brought with it rain, and it had been falling for days now. Standing there at the window with it coming down like it was, it took her back to the last time she was alone with her father like this.

_Her tears had slid down her cheeks, mirroring the rain that was falling in rivulets down her New York City apartment window. The morning had been dark, and clouds above were heavy, unleashing a storm that showed no signs of relenting._

_Her father’s angry voice was still shouting at her from across the room and she hadn’t expected he would tire of it anytime soon. “A musician, Abigail? Good God, I thought I’d raised you better than this. You honestly think some backwoods Scotsman from nowhere is going to take care of you? Or better yet, want anything to do with you now?”_

_“You don’t know him-” she had begun, turning to face him, not bothering to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks or mask the hurt from her eyes._

_“And what about school?” he interrupted, barking at her like she was an inexperienced child. Beneath the hurt, his outrage had her anger simmering. He had never cared about what was important to her. “Three years into medical school and you’re just going to give it all up?”_

_“No, I won’t,” she insisted, her tone rising right along with his. “This changes nothing. I’m still going to be a doctor-”_

_“And raise a child on your own?” He scoffed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, his green eyes bore into hers and she stared back, defiant. She had never hated him more in her life than she had at that moment._

_Abby tilted her chin up. “No. Not on my own.”_

_His face had fallen then, along with his shoulders, suddenly looking like all the fight had gone out of him. It caught her off guard, because he wasn’t one who gave up so easily or as quickly. “I see you’re determined.”_

_“I am,” she told him and crossed her arms across her chest._

_“If this is the way it has to be, so be it, but,” he paused, came closer to her and narrowed his eyes before going on, “if you want me to continue to pay your tuition and the life you find so comfortable, I want you to do one thing for me.”_

_She blinked at him, not knowing what to think. Why would he offer her anything? Why would he suddenly support her when he made it perfectly clear he thought it all a mistake? But then, he wasn’t offering her anything, he was threatening. “What’s that?”_

_“I want you to consider all of your options_ before _you go telling this man. I want you to seriously consider what would be better, not for you, but for this child. You’re so certain this man will want to be a part of its life but are you going to ask him to move here?” He tilted his head at her. “Give up his life while you go to school? Is that fair to him? Is it fair to the child?”_

_Stunned, she said nothing in return and turned back to look outside because until that moment she never doubted that she and Marcus could figure it all out, but now her father was making her question all she believed._

_“You don’t have to get rid of it, Abigail, but there are other options. There’s adoption. You can’t be selfish in this. You have to think about what kind of future you want your child to have. What kind of future does it deserve and if you can honestly say you can give it that, then fine. But I want you to think long and hard before you go making any decisions. Before you go ruining not only your life but his. Because that’s what you’ll be doing.”_

_She lifted her hand, touched the tips of her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek._

_“Thank God your mother isn’t alive to see what a disappointment you’ve become.”_

_Moments later the door slammed shut behind him in his wake. Her shoulders shook from her quiet sobs muffled by her hand that now covered her mouth._

_The last thing she ever wanted to do was ruin Marcus’ life._

The sound of the voice by the very man who manipulated her that day suddenly filled the room.

“Abigail,” he rasped as he woke. She could tell he was having trouble speaking, and the doctor in her had her rise to her feet and take the cup of water from beside his bed to hold out for him. He looked at her, startled by the gesture, she thought, and good. Let him see despite all that he’d done to her, he hadn’t turned her into the monster he was. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her once he had taken a few sips.

“I didn’t come here for you,” she started cutting him off. “I came for Annabell.”

He gave her another look, she suspected it to be guilt maybe but wasn’t so sure he was capable of such a thing. “Whatever it was I’m still glad you came. There’s something I need to tell you.”

She put the cup back on the table. “What is it?”

“The baby,” he paused to take a labored breath, “your baby…”

Her eyes widened. Oh, God _no_. No, no, no, no. She didn’t want to hear _anything_ he had to say about her daughter. She turned away, hoping that by not looking at him she could stop the emotions and memories from that day from returning but it was no use. She was already crying. Anger rose up in her, filled her with more hatred that she thought she could possess. He couldn’t do this to her now. He couldn’t ask this of her because she wasn’t willing to forgive him. Shaking her head, told him, “Dad, don’t-”

“She’s alive.”

Abby blinked and spun back to face him unsure she heard him right. “What?”

Now _he_ was the one who was crying and with every word that came from his mouth, she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. “I went to my lawyer before she was born and had it all arranged. It was me who signed the papers with your signature. I told the doctors and nurses not to mention the baby or the adoption because it would be too painful for you and then I let you believe she didn’t survive.”

She took a step back and then another. Betrayal stung in her heart like she had never felt. “How could you?”

“You had your life in front of you… I couldn’t let you throw that away.” His tone was stronger now. More resolute. And it made her sick to think that deep down he still believed he did the right thing. “I need you to forgive me, Abigail.”

_She’s alive._ His words came back and became a mantra in her head. Her daughter was _alive_.

“ _Where_ is she?” she demanded.

“The adoption agency’s information is in the folder on the cart, along with a confession notarized by my lawyer. His number is in there. He will help you with any legal issues you may have.”

Her steps carried her around his bed and over to the cart where she took the stack of papers then made her way to the door.

“Abigail,” he pleaded, and she paused in the doorway, didn’t bother to turn to look at him. She couldn’t. “I was only trying to protect you.”

Protect her. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, she wanted to turn and shout at him that he didn’t know the first thing about protecting someone. But the longer she stood there, the longer she was from finding her daughter and she was done letting him keep her from her.

“Please, don't call me again,” she said, then made her way at a run to the elevator.

***

The following morning, Marcus woke to a call from his mother. He was still half asleep while she carried on about something that had happened at the church with Father Carrington’s flock of doves that -if he had heard her correctly- involved a lot of shit in the pews and would he go drop by the house and take the kids to school. He’d grumbled an affirmative, and after hanging up with her, stumbled groggily around his room trying to find a clean pair of jeans.

Once he was dressed, he stopped in the kitchen long enough to make himself a large mug of coffee before he left.

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, and put on his sunglasses while making his way to his car and cursed under his breath. Eight in the morning was too sodding early for any activity that included leaving the house.

A half an hour later, he was back in the car with the wee devils finally on their way to school. They chatted noisily in the back, while he listened to an older alternative station that usually didn’t play his songs, but this morning seemed to be a morning he wasn’t going to escape them because the third one came on since they started to the school.

More familiar with all of his songs than he was, his ten-year-old nephew, Bellamy asked from the back of the car, “Why don’t you sing your own songs?”

Marcus smirked and gazed into the rear-view mirror. “Because I’m not that good.”

“Yes, you are, Uncle Marcus!” Octavia piped up from next to her brother. Her five-year-old fiery brow furrowed in disapproval. “Granny says so.”

He grinned at the irrefutability in her little voice, as though her grandmother’s word was law.

“Well, I’m a better writer than I am a singer,” he told her, and when her frown didn’t disappear he added, “Besides I only sing them for my best girl, and that’s you.”

“And gran?” she asked leveling a stare at him.

He shook his head and right before bringing the mug to his lips to take a sip he said, “And Gran, yes.”

His sister’s kids lived with his mum but there are some weekends he took them to give his mum a rest. And in the summer when he wasn’t working so much, would take them for a week or two at a time. They were good kids, if not a bit rowdy. His sister would have been proud of them.

In truth, he could be singing his own songs, but that would involve touring and days, weeks, months away. His mum could handle the kids on her own, but she shouldn’t have to. He didn’t regret staying home to help his mum raise them. He promised his father when he passed on to take care of her and he planned to keep his word.

Besides, he’d never been one for the big stage. Singing in small pubs was one thing, being thrust up onto a pavilion stage with thousands of fans was another. It wasn’t his thing. He’d rather write the songs, maybe try them out himself on a small, unknowing crowd in the city with his mates before he demoed them to his record label, but not professionally.

“When can we come stay with you?” Octavia asked.

“In a few days,” he reassured her, “on the weekend when you’re out of school.”

Of the two kids, Octavia was the one most attached to him. While he was cool uncle Marcus to his nephew, Octavia had only been a little under two when her mum died, and she placed him in that missing parental role in her life.

“Are you still coming to my spring concert?” she asked with hope in her tone.

“Wouldn't miss it for the whole world,” he promised as he pulled up to the school. “Alright, off you go. Be good. Gran will be here to pick you up.”

“See you later!” Bellamy called then flung the car door open.

Octavia smiled from the back seat, and cried, _Bye!_ then ran off after her brother.

He waited until they were at the door for their school before he started to drive home where he would probably sleep for a few more hours then make some more coffee and get to work on a new song.

The only thing about not singing his own songs was knowing if she ever heard them, she’d never know they were written for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Eight hours. It took her eight hours for her to get through to someone at the private adoption agency her father went through. And even then when she finally did get to speak with someone and explain her situation, she was directed to the New York Department of Children and Families. As far as the adoption agency was concerned, her daughter’s adoption was finalized and out of their hands. It was now up to her and her father’s attorney to proceed with any legal action.

Her father’s attorney had been in court all morning. His legal assistant tried to reassure her Hyrum had been expecting her call and would call her back the moment he was free from court. But for all her comforting words, they did nothing to keep Abby from going downtown herself.

Between talking to one person or another, the missed calls from work had begun to stack up, and so she called the hospital from the cab. The woman on the phone had been short while Abby explained again what had happened, but instead of empathizing with her, she asked her questions about when Abby planned to return. Then she spent the next five minutes lecturing her on how there was a process for taking time off, but Abby didn’t care. They could kick her out of her residency, do whatever the hell they wanted.

_Processes_.

She was already so sick to death about hearing that word that by the time she got to the department for children and families she could scream. And she did. Right at the woman seated behind the glass window who was preventing her from finding her daughter. “I don’t care about your damn process! I’m not leaving here without someone telling me where I can find my daughter!” The woman’s eyes went wide. Abby startled the woman on the other side of the glass, and it made her regret raising her voice but she felt so desperate. “ _Please_ , I thought she was dead.” Her last word came out along with a choked sob. She wasn’t sure where the tears kept coming from, she’d been crying almost nonstop since that morning. “Please,” she said in a whisper, “I just want to find my little girl.”

The woman's eyes shift from her’s somewhere over her shoulder. Abby turned half expecting to see a security guard standing behind her only it wasn’t. It was a woman with a short, dark pixie cut-hair, older than her by a handful of years. She wore a severe-looking frown and a name tag on her chest that read _Indra_.

“Ma’am, if you’ll kindly lower your voice, and come with me I’ll help you, alright?” The woman raised a brow and stared at her.

Abby nodded feeling chastised by her tone combined with her look of disapproval. When she said nothing else to her and started to walk, Abby followed her behind the counter and down a long hall to an office. Indra took a seat at the desk and began typing things into her computer.

“Have a seat,” Indra said without looking over at her.

Abby did, and while waiting there, she let herself think about how there had always a feeling tucked away into a part of her heart that told her her baby hadn’t died. Sometimes she felt it so strongly she could almost close her eyes and picture what she might be doing.

“When is her birthday?”

Abby straightened in her chair, tucked her hair behind her ears, and gave her full attention to Indra. “December 25th, 2003.”

Indra sat there blinking at her a moment. “Christmas baby, huh?” Abby smiled at the woman but her attention went back on the screen in front of her. “And her place of birth?”

“New York City Presbyterian.”

She typed in more information, and Abby waited, wringing her hands in her lap. After a moment, Indra leaned toward her screen. “Hmm. Interesting.”

Abby’s heart knocked hard. “What? Did you find her? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” she told her once again began to type away at her keyboard. “This must be your lucky day because you won't be fighting any legal battles to get her back. She’s in a home for children in Boston. The initial adoptive parents who took her after she was born placed her into the system four months ago.”

Abby let out a breath she hadn't been aware she had been holding. The relief to know she wouldn’t have to fight a couple for her child,  which she was terrified she would have to do, was palpable. And yet, the fact that someone who had her for her first few years just gave her up made her illogically angry. However, she only let herself feel that anger for a few moments because her daughter was out there waiting for someone to come take her and love her. “What can I do? How can I get her back?”

“There will be some paperwork. Considering the circumstances, it won’t be too difficult for you. I’ll call the home and let them know you’re coming to get her.” There was a noise, a hum and then the sound of something being printed in the corner of the room. Indra stood, collected the papers straightening them before holding them out to her. “This first paper here is their address. I'll make sure they're expecting you. The second paper is a picture of her. Her name is Natalie.”

Abby took the papers and lifting the first sheet, her breath caught in her chest and tears fill her eyes. When she pictured her daughter, she imagined she would be beautiful but even her mind couldn’t compare. Her long, wavy hair that fell over her shoulders was not as light as hers, but darker like her father. Not only that, Abby could see so much of Marcus in her. Her eyes, Abby had been right. She had his eyes. _My nose,_ she thought and let out a watery laugh remembering long ago lying in bed with Marcus running the tip of her finger down his nose and the face he made waking up to her touch.

_“I'll thank you to leave my nose alone, woman,” he told her and captured her hand with his._

_“But I love your nose,” she said and leaned forward to kiss the tip._

_He let out a scoff and wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer to his side. “I can't see why.”_ _Peeking an eye open,_ _he said, “S'not like yours. A cute button of a thing.”_

_Propping herself up on her elbow she looked down at him and repeated her earlier caress running her finger down his nose. “I like yours because it suits you. It makes you look distinctively handsome.”_

_He smiled and reached up once again, this time he took her hand and kissed her finger. “Let's just pray all our children have your nose.”_

_She had grinned down at him. Her heart knocking hard in her chest. God, she loved him. “All our children, hm?”_

_“You know, later when I've convinced you to stay here in Scotland and marry an underpaid pub singer.”_

_He kissed her then. Long and deep, and God had either of them known then how soon they'd get started on that family._

“Thank you,” she told Indra, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

* * *

Back at home, Abby unlocked the door to her apartment and rushed into her bedroom. She had just caught the last seat on the plane from New York to Boston leaving that night. The flight was scheduled to board at ten, and it was almost seven.

She pulled a suitcase from the top of her closet and setting it on her bed, quickly unzipped it. So many thoughts raced through her mind. She had just finished speaking with her father’s attorney, Hyrum. Indra had faxed over Natalie’s file from the department of children and families, and all their paperwork to his office before she left. As soon as she got into a cab, she called to make sure they had got them, which they had, and he notified her he already started the petition to get her parental rights returned to her.

_Just as he was assuring her she would have them and soon, she blurted out the words without really thinking about them. “When is the soonest I can take her out of the country?”_

_There was a pause and then, “Pardon?”_

_“Her father lives in Scotland,” she told him as though it wasn’t news to him. “I want to take her there.”_

_“Ah, well… that’s uh, ” he stammered and cleared his throat. “Her original birth certificate is still in your name._ _All there is to be done is to null-and-void the amended certificate which I will file along with the petition for the reinstatement of your parental rights Monday morning. I see no reason why they will be denied or conditional given your father’s uh, confession... and since the adoption took place without the consent of the birth father.” He cleared his throat again. “You would be able to file for a passport as soon as the judge has signed the decree which I will take to the court in the morning.”_

_She let out a long breath, thinking of what she would need for an even longer trip if it all worked out. She hated to drag Natalie from Boston to New York then to Scotland. If she could get everything together, she could just go from Boston to Edinburgh. “Good,” she replied, absentmindedly thinking of all the things she would need to do._

_“I should tell you it can take three to four weeks normal processing time to get a passport.”_

_She closed her eyes feeling her hope beginning to leave her. “Is there a way to get one sooner?”_

_“You’d need to make an appointment,” he started, and she listened while he let out a long, heavy breath. “Is this something you’re set on?”_

_“It is,” she said._

_“I thought so. Alright, call back to my office tomorrow and give Deanna the address to the hotel you’ll be staying at. I’ll have her send you the paperwork you’ll need and make you an appointment with the local passport office there in Boston. If you’re lucky, they’ll issue you one that day.”_

_Her heart leaped. “That soon?”_

_“It’s been known to happen. But you’ll need to also provide proof of travel. As soon as you can, make your arrangements to Scotland. Plane tickets, hotel reservations. Have that all worked out before you go apply for her passport.”_

_“I can do that. Thank you, Hyrum.”_

_“It’s the least I can do after… everything.” There was a pause and then his heavy sigh right before he told her, “Dr. Walter’s if I had known you knew nothing of the adoption-”_

_“Please, don’t,” Abby interrupted. “I’ve spent too long thinking of what happened. Right now I’d rather just focus on my daughter and getting her back.”_

_“You’ll have her back,”  he told her, sounding sure and determined. “I’ll make certain of it.”_

Abby packed jeans and shirts, leggings and sweaters, and underwear and thick socks. She pulled outfits from her closet with no real consideration. If she could help it, she wasn’t planning on coming home anytime soon. She’d waited almost four years to tell Marcus he was a father and she wasn’t waiting any longer.

Her phone rang across the room where she tossed it on her bed along with her purse. With a frustrated growl, she tossed one more shirt into the suitcase and made her way over to the bed. _Callie_. Her friend was probably calling to give her the third degree for missing her shift.

She answered with a distracted, “Hey,” and went back to her packing.

“Hey?” Callie laughed lightly. “Hey, yourself. Why aren’t you here?”

Abby held her phone away from her ear and glanced at the time. Just nearly eight, Callie would be still at the hospital. She worked a similar schedule to Abby which had them working until sometime after nine on most days. In her bathroom, she grabbed a cosmetic bag from under the sink and tossed in some of her makeup from her drawer.

“At home trying to get packed. I’m going to be gone a while.”

“Gone?” Callie’s voice grew quieter, more curious. “Gone where?”

“Boston,” she said and then after dropping a lipstick into the bag, braced her hand on the counter and let the emotions from the day come. “Callie, you won’t believe it, but I went to see my father this morning and my daughter… he told me she's alive.”

“Alive?” Callie asked, “What? How?”

She told Callie everything that had happened. Starting with getting a call from her aunt, her conversation with her father and Indra, to her call with Hyrum, purposefully omitting anything about Scotland, for now. Callie was a great friend, her best friend, but seeing Marcus wasn’t something she wanted anyone’s ridicule or opinion on at the moment.

“Abby, slow down. What about the hospital?”

Abby's brow furrowed. Had Callie heard a word she said? She had been with Abby after she had thought she lost her daughter. She knew how devastated Abby had been. How she could think anything else would matter more? “Really, Callie? I just found out my _daughter_ is alive. That she’s been abandoned and she’s all alone in a home full of strangers. Forgive me but my career and the hospital are the last things on my mind right now.”

“Have you at least told anyone that you’re leaving?”

Her shoulders fell. “I have,” she said with a sigh. “I haven’t lost all my good sense.”

“Well, I’m happy for you.” Abby could hear some noise in the background that sounded a lot like traffic. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“I'm,” she paused, thought about how she would prefer riding with her best friend than a random cab driver. “If you think you can get here by eight thirty, I’d love one.”

“I’m leaving here now.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, Marcus found his way to his back deck with an ale and his guitar. He hadn’t thought of anything particular to write that day, just played a few of his older songs feeling a bit more nostalgic that he normally did. Something about the day had him missing her more than usual.

Marcus snorted. He always missed her.

Just then, his back gate swung open, and Marcus looked over to see his mate, Charles. The dark-skinned man gave him a look of exasperation. “I’ve been knocking on your door for ten minutes.”

Marcus smirked. “I obviously didn’t hear it.”

Charles shook his head, and walking up the stairs to the deck took a seat in one of Marcus’ patio chairs and asked, “Sup?”

“Not much,” he replied, then leaned over and took one of the two unopened beers beside him, handed one to Charles.

Charles took it and lifted it gratefully in the air. “What’s this? Another song?”

Marcus shook his head. “Nah, just messing around.”

“Well, since you’re just messing around how about you come downtown with me tonight? It’s ladies night, and I don’t know about you but I’ve been dying to get out since Cindy and I divorced.”

Marcus grinned. Charles had moved to Scotland from America after meeting Cindy one night in a pub. They got married the next week and they’d been fighting every day since. That had been two years ago now. “I bet you are, but I think I’ll pass.”

Charles made a face at him. Marcus knew that face well. It was a face of impatience mixed with pity. “Man, why don’t you just call her?”

He chuckled. “And sound like a fool? Nah, she’s probably moved on by now.”

“Look her up and find out.”

Marcus raised a brow at him. “Look her up?”

“Yeah, you know, use the world wide web,” Charles said, his dark brows knitting together. “You never thought of doing this?”

“Of course, I have,” he defended. “But what good would it do?”

Charles brows rose up into his nonexistent hairline. “It’ll give you some closure for one thing. Let you move on or spur you to grow a set and go after her like you should have all those years ago.”

“I can’t just leave,” he began.

“You can actually,” Charles interrupted. “Your mom’s fine. The kids will be fine.”

“And if she wants nothing to do with me? How do I know she hasn’t forgotten all about me? Need I remind you, it was her who stopped answering my calls?”

It was silent between them for long moments. Some of the frustration he thought he’d let go a long time ago rose up in him easier than he thought.

“Maybe there was a reason for it? You told me her dad was a real piece of work, didn’t you? At least you’ll know, and you can stop wondering what happened. You’re never going to move on. You’ll always be stuck here writing lonely ass songs for the rest of your life.

He let out a heavy sigh and picked at the strings of his guitar. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You know what you need.”

Marcus squinted over at him, the sun now shining brightly in his face as it started to set. He could guess a lot of things Charles might believe that he needed. “Do I want to know?”

“You need to get laid. When's the last time you took a girl home?”

“If I said years would you pity me?”

“Good lord.” Charles sighed. “I don't know who you do it. I mean, don't you ever miss resting your head between a pair of soft-”

Thankfully at that moment, the sound of Marcus’ mother’s voice shouted from somewhere inside his house saving him from finding out what exactly was soft. “Marcus? Are you home?”

“Back here, Mum.” The sound of Octavia and Bellamy’s voices could be heard from the kitchen and his mum’s footsteps as they drew near. Marcus smirked over at his friend. “Do you want to go on with what you were saying?”

Charles laughed, pat him on the knee and thankfully changed the subject.

Later that night, when he was finally alone, Marcus reluctantly sat down at the computer. While he waited for it to boot up, a sort of apprehension twisted his stomach into knots.

Her name he typed easily into the search bar and stared at it a moment before pressing enter. The page went white while it searched, and he took lungfuls of air before letting it all out in a whoosh when the first results showed her name next to New York Presbyterian Hospital.

He clicked on the link and the hospital’s page came up and under it, all her information along with her picture. A smile pulled his lips up and up. There she was. She looked the same as he remembered her. Four years hadn’t aged her a day.

It showed her education at Columbia University and told of her ongoing residency there at Presbyterian in pediatrics. His smile grew big and wide and proud. She’d done it. She’d finished school and became a doctor. He couldn’t be more pleased for her.

It made him think back, to a memory of them walking along the beach in Portobello. It’d been cold and gray and Goddamn windy, but she wanted to see the ocean before she left. There were only five more days he had with her, and God help him, he didn’t want to let her go but knew he had to, if only for a little while.

So he spent a good portion of his time just looking at her. Watching the way her hair would blow around her face from the wind. The way her cheeks and the tip of her nose grew all rosy from the chill. The way she would smile over at him and look away whenever he looked over at her like she’d been doing the exact same thing as him.

_“How long until you graduate, then?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist bringing her close by his side._

_She smiled up at him and slipped her arm around him. “A little less than a year.”_

_“Ah, that’s good.”_

_They walked some more, and then she let out a sigh and said, “Then an internship for another and then a three-year residency.”_

_“Jesus.” He had grinned and run a hand through his hair. “I can't imagine spending that long in school.”_

_“They kind of like you to know what you're doing,” she teased._

_“I guess so, especially with the wee ones.”_

_“You can come visit me?” she suggested in that low, shy voice of hers that always made his heart thump hard in his chest._

_His footsteps came to a halt, and he tugged gently on her hand, pulling her to him. Looking down into her warm brown eyes he promised, “You name the dates and time and I’ll be there.”_

_She rose on the tips of her toes. Her tiny stature had a way of pulling the strings of his heart, endured her to him more than she’d ever know. Leaning his head down, he placed his lips on hers and kissed her for long moments until it got too cold to stand outside and kiss._

Marcus pulled himself from the memory and stared at the image on the screen. There, something deep down in his bones assured him their love was real. That what they shared was no fling or passing fancy. Charles had been right, something happened, he was sure. Just like it was his sister’s death kept him from getting to her, something happened to keep her from him. He knew it like he knew the sun would come up just over the brick wall and shine right into his bloody bedroom smacking him right in the face because he forgot to close his sodding drapes.

This certainly had him reaching for his phone and dialing the number under her contact information. It rang and rang, and he wasn’t sure he was going to hear anyone over the pounding of his heart, but someone picked up. A soft voice greeted him with a _hello_ and thanked him for calling New York Presbyterian.

“To whom may I direct your call?”

“I was hoping to speak with Dr. Abigail Walters.”

“One moment please.” His head fell back and his eyes closed. Jesus Christ, what was he doing? He was mad. Fortunately and unfortunately for him, the voice came back quickly. “I’m sorry, sir, but Dr. Walters has taken some time off due to a family emergency. Is there someone else I can get you? Would you like to make an appointment?”

His head fell forward. “No, thank you. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, sir. You too.”

Ending the call, he tossed the phone on the couch beside him and sat back against the cushions. Well, he supposed that was that then.


	4. Chapter 4

Abby had checked into her hotel in Boston just after midnight. The day had been long and the most emotionally draining she’d had in a quite a while. She hadn’t bothered to unpack but took out a pair of cotton pajama pants and a tee-shirt. After showering, she had crawled into the large king bed and held the picture of her daughter. She had smiled at it. Tears had poured down her cheeks for all that she’d missed. Her first steps, her first word, the first time she laughed. 

Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she tucked the picture along with her phone under the pillow beside hers and turned off the light. She knew she needed sleep. She was meeting with the director of the children's home at ten to talk and take Natalie. 

But her mind hadn’t let her sleep right away. She had too many questions. Questions like, was Natalie happy before? Were the couple who raised her those first two years good to her? Did they cuddle her and tell her they loved her? Did they tell her stories and hold her when she was scared? Had they argued in front of her before they divorced? Did they tell her how sorry they were? That it wasn’t her fault when they dropped her on an unfamiliar doorstep?

Abby had wiped away more tears as she wondered, did Natalie cry at night? Did she miss the couple who she knew to be her mommy and daddy? She was only three-years-old. After months on her own, was she still sad? Did she cry herself to sleep? Was there anyone at the home who comforted her?

And the question Abby had before she had finally fallen asleep, would her baby girl be happy to see her?

The navigation voice in her rental car alerted her that her turn was coming up. Abby pulled into the long driveway of the four-story home and marveled at how large it really was. Situated just outside of Beacon Hill, it was a large remodeled home tucked away on a private street, that had a connecting preschool and playground. There were kids outside playing. Boys and girls in a small yard playing soccer, with some of the older kids reading on the porch while the younger ones played with blocks and dolls. 

The steps to the home were made of wood that had been painted white to match the patio, and they creaked underneath her steps. She could feel her heart pick up its pace as she opened the door, moments away from having her baby girl in her arms after all this time thinking she was gone.

Just inside the entrance, was a desk and a kind-looking, older woman with gray hair. She smiled and peered over the rim of her glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. Abby introduced herself, and she was asked to wait at the desk while she went and got the director. 

She knew it was unlikely, but Abby still looked from child to child hoping to catch a glimpse of Natalie.

Abby looked up to the sound of footsteps and a tall, woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail came into the room and held out her hand. “Hello, you must be Dr. Walters. I'm Juliet Burke. Director here at Rothschild Home. Why don't we go somewhere quiet, so we can talk a moment?”

Abby nodded, and Juliet led her down the hall. Each room flowed seamlessly into the next. White walls with bright accents, blending sophisticated with cozy. The rooms off the hall were tidy looking playrooms. Each differentiated by age judging by the books and toys they held. Finally, Juliet stepped into a room with easels and a little table filled with pictures recently painted.

When Abby imagined her daughter left in a home, it wasn’t anything like this, and she was suddenly very very grateful. 

“You should know, Dr. Walters-”

“Please,” Abby said, “Call me Abby.”

Juliet smiled, and took two small children-sized chairs from the table and placed them in the middle of the room. She took a seat in one and motioned for Abby to sit in the other. “Abby, you should know Natalie hasn't spoken since she came here four months ago."

Abby took a seat across from her. “Nothing at all?” 

Juliet shook her head. “She communicates with small gestures, nods that sort of thing. Losing her adopted parents was hard on her at first, but I don't want you to think the worst. She still smiles, not often but she does. Mostly for her preschool teacher and me because we've been the ones to spend the most time with her.”

“I see.” Abby held back tears because she wasn’t about to cry again. Not here, not right before she was about to have her daughter back. Later that night maybe. She’d cry in the shower for all that they’d both been through. Right now though, she needed to be strong for Natalie. 

But apparently she wasn’t very good at masking her emotions because Juliet placed a hand on her knee, and in a comforting voice, said, “It'll take her some time, but I believe she’ll be plastering you with questions and talking your ear off before you know it.” She let a tear,  _ one _ tear fall and wiped away. “Do you have any questions for me?”

She did. Many. For about a half an hour, she and Juliet talked about Natalie’s schedule and routine. The things she liked to play with, things she liked to eat and what she didn’t. Juliet told her about her adoptive parents, who had taken very good care of her but once they had divorced neither the father nor mother wanted the shared connection. The story filled Abby with sadness, but of all the places they could have taken Natalie to, she was glad she was here. 

Juliet assured her they had been taking the best care of her daughter. While she had some sleeping issues at first, they had found a coping mechanism that worked well for her. As long as someone she knew was close by, and talked or sang gently to her, she would be able to fall back to sleep. 

She suggested that Abby wait a couple of days before taking Natalie, only to give her an opportunity to know who she was and form a bond with her. She hadn’t wanted to wait, but what she was saying made sense, and the last thing Abby wanted to do was take her from all that she knew without giving her a chance to trust her.  

In the end, Juliet left it up to her, but she agreed. They decided Abby would stay for the day. She would be introduced to her and then they could play in the room or go outside until lunch which she would also stay for along with dinner and helping her get ready for bed.

Then before she left to get her, she had asked her a question Abby hadn’t expected. “Do you plan on renaming her?”

Renaming her? Abby’s mouth opened then closed as she thought about her answer. She wasn’t talking about her surname, but her name. “No,” she said, trying not to sound as stunned by the question as she was. “While it may not have been something I would have named her, it’s a pretty name and I think it suits her.”

Juliet smiled softly. “It does suit her. Sometimes parents will want to rename the child they want to adopt, it’s their right to do so, I would have just made sure to prepare her.”

“No. God no.” Abby hoped Juliet couldn’t tell how horrified the idea made her. 

“I think you should take some comfort as the name was derived from Natalia, which is Latin for Christmas Day.” 

She and Juliet shared smiles. “Thank you,” Abby said.

Juliet left her in the room to get Natalie.

She got to her feet, unable to sit still. Going over to the window with sheer white curtains, Abby watched the kids outside play. The youngest among them looked to be five, maybe six and she wondered if Natalie was the youngest.

The door opened, and she turned at the sound. Juliet came back holding the hand of her baby girl. Only she wasn’t a baby. But a little sweet girl, tiny, like Abby used to be. Her hair fell around her shoulders but braided in the front in a side braid to keep the hair from falling in her face. She looked up at her and the feeling that filled her she could only think of describing it as how one might feel falling instantly in love. 

Abby walked slowly through the room, getting down on her knees, she tilted her head to meet the little girl's eyes. They were just like in the picture only brighter. A beautiful, warm brown like her father. 

Abby swallowed, held back any tears that threatened to fall and gave her a soft smile. Her voice was low and soft, which she hoped was soothing when she said, “Hi, sweetheart.”

Natalie held her gaze for a moment, but then looked up at Juliet who was still holding her hand, then darted behind her legs. 

“She’s very shy,” Juliet told her then gently encouraged Natalie back around and knelt like Abby so she could speak to her. “Natalie, this nice lady’s name is Abby. Do you remember the story I told you?” Natalie nodded. “Well, Abby is your mommy. Your real mommy. She had someone look after you for a little while, but now she’s back and she wants to spend some time with you before she takes you home with her. Is that okay?”

Natalie looked from Juliet to Abby and back. Moments passed, and Abby was sure Natalie was going to shake her head, but slowly her head dipped down and Abby released the breath she had been holding. 

“Good,” Juliet beamed at her. “How about we go show your mommy some of your drawings by your bed?”

Another nod, then Natalie took a step toward her then another and held out her hand. Moved, Abby smiled and closed her hand around hers. 

* * *

Back in front of his computer, Marcus squinted at the screen, making sure he was reading the prices of the hotels correctly. He was and they were sodding mad bastards if they thought he'd pay those prices.

Not that he couldn't afford it, he might have no choice because what he considered reasonable accommodations looked to be located in the dodgiest part of town.

He couldn't very well see Abby if he were dead.

“Hey, uncle Marcus,” a breathless Bellamy said, running in from the outside. His face was red from the cold and exertion running around with his mates. “What are you doing?”

He sat back and stretched. He hadn't realized he had been sitting in one position for so long. “Oh, trying to book a trip.” 

Maybe he should just look at plane tickets. 

“Where to?”

He considered the boy for a moment. Bellamy was the most trustworthy of the two children, but given the right bribe, was likely to spill easily. “Promise you won't tell your Gran?” Bellamy nodded once. A quick, serious dip of his chin, then waited with what looked like heated breath until Marcus leaned toward him and put him out of his misery. “I’m planning a trip to New York.”

Bellamy's eyes widened. “Really? When? Can I go?”

Marcus chucked, closed the browser on the screen and pushed himself away from his desk. He'd wait and buy everything later after the kids went back home. “Yes, really. In about a week and no, you can’t go, you have school.”

“Aw, come on! I want to go to America!”

“Sorry, lad, not this time. One day I'll take you, but not this trip. I’ll need you here to look out for Gran and your sister while I'm gone.”

Bellamy looked at him skeptically. “Is this about your girl? You're coming back, right?”

“Of course, I am. And how would you know about her?”

The young boy shrugged. “Gran told me.”

Marcuse let out a snort. “Of course she would.” 

“So she's the one you're going to see?”

He raised a brow. There was no need to lie to the boy. He was older now and a trip to America to see a girl wasn’t such a bad thing. If Marcus could pass along anything to him, sometimes you had to cross oceans to find your girl, would be at the top of his list. “I am.”

“Will you bring me something from America?”

“You know I will.” He clapped Bellamy on the shoulder. The young boy beamed at him. The phone rang and Marcus gestured with a tilt of his chin before saying, “Go get your sister and tell her it’s time to get ready to go.” Bellamy took off back outside, and Marcus picked up his mobile, and answered, “Hello?”

“Marcus, do you have plans next week?”

He glanced at his computer screen that was now just the picture of his background. “Actually, I-”

“Cancel them,” she said when he started to tell her about New York. “I need you. There’s this kid in Inverness who I want you to come and listen to with me. I just got his demo, and I think he would be perfect for the new songs you’ve been writing.”

Marcus ran a hand over his face. “Does it have to be next week? I was planning on-”

“It does,” she insisted, her tone verging on a dramatic whine reminiscent of his five-year-old niece. “I need to get him before someone snatches him up. Please, Marcus. I’m begging you.”

Eyes closed, he asked, “If you like him so much why do you need me to be there?”

“I want your opinion, of course,” she said, her tone slipping from dramatic to feigned hurt, “and at the end of the day, they’re your songs.

He let out a deep breath. She had him there. “I suppose, yeah.”

“Fantastic! I’ll call you back with the details tomorrow.”

“Alright.” She thanked him some more, called him a darling and a gem and told him if she was there she’d kiss him, then mercifully, ended the call. 

Marcus dropped his phone on the desk and gazed over at the monitor with a frown. New York was going to have to wait a week.


	5. Chapter 5

For three days Abby visited Natalie at the home. 

Natalie had been quiet, very reserved at first. But she seemed to trust Abby in a way that delighted Juliet and surprised Abby. 

The first day, Natalie took her by the hand and showed her all around. She pointed things out to Abby, and Abby would ask her closed-ended questions that would get her a nod or a shake of her head. Juliet stayed with them, but after a while when they ventured outside she slipped away so Abby could have some time to develop a bond with Natalie on her own. 

In the afternoon after lunch, Abby had gone with her to the art room and watched while Natalie drew picture after picture. She smiled at the way Natalie’s little brow would furrow and her little tongue would peak out between her lips in concentration. Still amazed, Abby propped her chin in her hand and thought back to earlier that day when she first saw her drawings. 

Natalie had pointed to a line on papers pinned to the wall beside her bed. Abby had gazed at them, then at her daughter in wonder before asking Juliet, “She drew these?”

Juliet smiled. “She did.” Abby’s mouth had dropped open slightly, and she kneeled down to have a better look. One sheet of construction paper was painted blue with red and orange fish, another was a field of flowers, and another, this one more abstract but was colorful and beautiful. “She has a talent for someone her age. Most three-year-olds are just beginning to form objects. Her preschool teacher, Harper has been working with her to develop it. She calls Natalie her little prodigy. I would seriously consider some art classes for her when you both get settled.” 

“You can count on that.” Abby beamed at Natalie, and praised, “These are beautiful, sweetheart.”

She had stayed the whole day until it was time for Natalie’s bed and even stayed to tuck her daughter in promising to see her in the morning. 

The second day had surprised her more than the first. As soon as she walked in the door Natalie ran up to her and lifted her arms up. She’d been so stunned she stood there for a moment looking down at her. Did she want to be held? Abby met Juliet’s eyes who hadn’t been far behind, and she gave Abby an encouraging smile. 

Still unable to believe Natalie wanted her to pick her up, Abby asked, “You want me to hold you?”

Abby had prepared herself for hesitation from Natalie the first time she held her, but Natalie eagerly nodded and Abby dropped her purse on the floor and lifted her into arms and clutched her gently against her chest. Only three, her daughter was small and light as a feather. She smelled like baby shampoo and laundry soap and Abby had no desire to put her down. She let the tears come, and Abby kissed her head and said a silent prayer of thanks even though she never considered herself very religious.

Throughout the day, Natalie often went to be picked up, and when they were eating or playing on the floor, preferred to be in Abby’s lap whenever she could be. She seemed to love Abby’s hugs and cuddles, and when she got tired wanted to be held some more. She had some toys they played with, and when she got bored of them Abby took them into the empty living room where she watched cartoons with Abby in wonder. 

Abby thought perhaps she hadn’t been allowed to watch many with the couple who had her before. As a doctor, she encouraged more outdoor time and exercise, sure. But it wasn’t really a childhood if you weren’t allowed to indulge in  _ some  _ cartoons. 

“You know, Mickey Mouse looks a lot different now than when I was little, but then, Minnie Mouse was always my favorite. Do you like Minnie?”

Natalie twisted in her lap and nodded. 

Abby smiled and brushed the baby hairs away from her eyes. “Do you like… Goofy?” Another nod. “What about Donald?” 

To this, Natalie scrunched her nose and shook her head making Abby laugh. 

“No?” She chuckled some more which turned into a soft smile when Natalie’s lips pull up ever so faintly. It was funny how the beginnings of a smile could make her heart skip and blink back tears. “He is a bit silly, isn't he?”

Natalie again nodded then Abby chanced a, “Have you ever been on an airplane?” Her brow furrowed, and she twisted more so that she was now sitting sideways in Abby’s lap listening while she explained, “Well, we are going to go on one. I think you're going to like it. We get to sit up in the front, and they give you snacks and juice. Do you think that will be fun?”

Moments passed and after she thought about it, nodded slowly. 

“We’re going to go see someone really special,” she began, wanting to start preparing Natalie for meeting her father but also being careful with how she spoke of him just in case he didn’t want to be a part of their lives. Because whether she believed he wouldn’t want to be a father or not, she had to prepare herself for it too. He had a right to know, yes, but he had a choice. And if he decided he didn’t want to be a father, she wasn’t about to speak of him as such only to have to take that away from Natalie. But what she could do was talk about the Marcus she knew back then because he was a good man with a kind heart and someone she still loved deeply. “His name is Marcus. And the town he lives in has a castle and a museum full of toys.”

Natalie’s eyes widened at the mention of toys but just as she was about to ask her if she wanted to play some more with her toys, Natalie let out a wide yawn and snuggled against her.

Placing a kiss on her brow, she held her close until her breathing evened and slowed. And while she slept, Abby brushed her fingers through Natalie’s hair thinking of Marcus and how she hoped he would still be there, that he hadn’t forgotten about her, and that he would want to be a part of Natalie’s life no matter how complicated it made their lives.

* * *

 

 

She had her appointment on the third morning with the Passport Agency, and whatever strings that were pulled to get her in there she thanked because she was told that Natalie’s passport would be ready for pickup the following morning at eight o’clock when they opened, She would have just enough time to get it and get to the airport for their flight that would leave at one. 

Like the two days before, she spent the day playing with Natalie, but as they would be leaving tomorrow, that evening instead of tucking her into bed and saying goodbye, Abby would be taking her back to the hotel with her. She and Juliet talked to her about it all day, and Natalie would nod when they asked if she understood she would be going home with Abby, that she would be living with her from now on. Each time came with a gaze and a nod. 

Abby helped her pack her things. Let Natalie put them into a new purple suitcase Abby bought for her. She waved goodbye to her friends and gave Juliet a hug then turned to Abby and raised her arms wanting to be back up in her arms. 

Natalie wrapped her arms around her shoulders and buried her face into her neck as they walked out to the car. Juliet walked with them, and just before Abby put her into the car, she pat Natalie’s back and smiled at Abby. “As I said, give her some time. She’s a strong one. If you need anything, my number is on the paperwork.”

There was so much Abby wanted to tell Juliet, how she appreciated all that she’d done. How she’d never be able to repay her for taking such wonderful care of her daughter all these months, but she felt that somehow Juliet knew. 

“Thank you.”

Later that night, after her shower and Natalie’s bath and they were all packed for the next morning, Abby gave her best friend one last call before she left the states. 

Callie’s voice sounded just as Abby thought it would, astounded.  “Abby, you’re going  _ where _ ?”

“Scotland.”

She could hear Callie sigh. “Abby, this is crazy. You just got her back. Come  _ home _ .”

But Abby shook her head even though she knew Callie couldn’t see it. “No, not this time. I made the mistake of not going back four years ago. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

“Do you even know if he’s still there?” Callie questioned. 

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose with the hand not holding her cell phone. The truth was, she didn’t. He could have moved. He could live somewhere else entirely for all she knew. “I don’t know, but someone there has to know where I can find him. His family lives there, I doubt they’ve all moved,” Abby reasoned. “He deserves to know about her, Callie.”

“I’m not arguing that he doesn’t, Abby, but… You’ve got money why don’t you have someone track him down? If you do that you can call him-” 

“I’m not calling Marcus and telling him about Natalie over the phone,” she interrupted lowering her voice so she wouldn’t wake Natalie who was fast asleep in the bed next to her. “Not with everything that happened. Can you imagine how it would all sound?”

Another sigh. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, but I know you and when you’re determined to do something there’s no stopping you. Just be careful, okay?”

Abby’s voice gentled. “I will.”

They said their goodbyes and Abby promised to call her from Scotland once they got settled then hung up the phone. Her gaze fell on Natalie. Her peaceful slumber made Abby’s chest constrict with joy but also with guilt. She told with herself that taking her from the home to Scotland wouldn't be as impactful as she feared because as long as she was with her, as long as she reassured Natalie often that she'd be right there with her, she’d be okay.

She knew enough from spending time with Natalie and her talks with Juliet to know that her daughter would need  _ her _ time and for a long while to come.

As much as she worried, her heart told her she was doing the right thing.

 

* * *

 

Marcus was exhausted.  

After traveling all day he wasn’t just dragged to one pub but several. He sat and drank for the most part while Diana and Macallan was his name talked music and bands and what it was like being an underappreciated eighteen-year-old musician to which Marcus glowered at the teen, and getting up from the table went and ordered another pint.  

The night wore on, the music got louder, the crowds thicker, and Marcus gave up on getting drunk. One too many accidental hands on his knee from Diana compelled him to maintain his sobriety. Christ, that woman never gave up, he thought as he made his way back from the bathroom. 

When he returned to their table, Macallan was back on stage and Diana leaned in to ask, “Well, what do you think?”

Marcus flicked his gaze back on the boy. He listened for a few bars and gave a noncommittal shrug,  “He’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” She raised a questioning eyebrow, but if it was at his lack of enthusiasm or whether she questioned his taste, he didn’t know, and quite frankly, didn’t care. What she thought this kid would know about singing his songs, he didn’t have a clue and it pissed him off that she dragged him along on this trip to check out Scotland’s own version of Justin Bieber. “How about we get another drink?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m going to go back to the room now. I’m not feeling so well.”

“Oh? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” He fished out his wallet from his pocket and threw down a few bills even though she insisted this trip was on her. “You and Macallan have fun.”

He decided to walk since he wasn’t far from his hotel. It had rained earlier. The streets and sidewalks were puddled, and the air still smelled of rain. The sky above was still clouded, still looked heavy and imposing. 

_ Family emergency. _

The words had been tumbling over and over in his mind for the last few days. He assumed at first it was her father, remembering Abby lost her mother. Her father’s behavior toward her was what driven Abby to Scotland, what brought her wandering into the pub that night.

_ He'd been struck speechless, which was unfortunate since he had been in the middle of a song, but he'd been saved only by the shove of Sinclair's shoulder against his. Marcus had never been one to blush, but she'd noticed his fumble and he felt his neck go hot. _

_ He managed to make it through his set without missing any more words and when he jumped down from the stage he made his way over to her.  _

_ “Hello.” _

_ She looked up at him through those dark eyelashes, and smiling said, “Hey.” _

He'd been a goner from that moment forward.

Over the next eight weeks, he'd learn a lot about Abby's life. She was an only child, a med student, and her relationship with her father was rocky, to say the least. Marcus frequently frowned as she told him of his controlling nature, the way Abby would describe how he would talk to her and her mother, and the way he robbed Abby of her last few days of her mother's life claiming Abby was the reason Lorraine was having a hard time letting go.

Abby had cried when she told him the story, and Marcus never wanted to fly across the ocean and punch a man he never met more in his life.

To think that bastard could be the cause of her family emergency made him want to say sod Diana's whole trip to woo the sodding teen and go see her.

But the reasonable part of his brain told him it was only a few more days, and then he could go. 

Taking his phone from his pocket, he stared down at it. “It’s taken me almost four years, but I’m coming, Abby. It just might take me a few more days to get there.”


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they made it to Scotland Abby was exhausted and Natalie, irritable. She had no desire to be put down. Not for a moment. The only time she managed to get a second to rest her arms was bribing the girl into holding her phone so she could use the bathroom. Even then, she couldn’t go far. Her daughter may have only been twenty-eight pounds, but she had to carry her and pull their luggage through the airport and out to the cab. Abby worked out,  _ but not enough _ , she thought, winded and relieved when the cab driver took pity on her and loaded her bags into the cab. 

It was just after midnight Scotland time when they made it to their hotel. Averon Guest House was a old, white stone building tucked in between two other large buildings. 

Inside, the woman behind the counter was awake, with shocking blue hair, rosy cheeks, and bright-eyed to see them. She looked to be around Abby’s age, maybe a little younger, and her enthusiastic, thick accented Scottish voice even had Natalie’s head rising from Abby's shoulder with curiosity. 

“Hello, I’m Mackenzie. Welcome to Averon Guest House.”

Abby stepped through the arch entryway. There were paintings that covered the walls. Some of landscapes, some self portraits staring off into space. To her right was a sitting room, and straight ahead a large imposing staircase.

“I have a reservation for Abigail Walters,” she told her. 

“Right, dear, I have ya,” she replied typing something rapidly into the computer then turning and grabbing a key from the wall, “and here you are.” She pushed her think black and white rimmed glasses up her nose and smiled at Natalie. “Hello, little one. You’re a pretty little thing. What’s your name?”

But Natalie’s curiosity only went so far, and she buried her face into Abby’s neck. Patting her back, Abby told the girl, “She’s shy. Her name is Natalie.”

“Natalie, that’s a bonnie name.” It seemed the clerk wasn’t about to give up on her daughter, because she asked, “How old are you?”

Natalie peered over at the girl, but kept her arms tightly around Abby’s neck. “She’s three.”

The girl‘s eyes widened. “Three whole years, ya don’t say. A big girl, you are. We have other children who run around here. They’d love to play with you.”

Abby swayed on the spot with Natalie peering over at the woman, but then she let out a tiny yawn. However late it was in Scotland, it was just about Natalie’s bedtime back in the states and she was ready for it. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, and to Abby’s relief, she came around the desk, helping her with her suitcase. Abby followed behind her. Walked with her up the stairs and down the hall to her room where she 

stepped aside so Abby could unlock the door with the kay she had given her. Once inside, she set her suitcase in the closet. “If you need anything we’ll be right downstairs.”

Abby thanked her, and when she was gone walked further into the room. The ceiling was high, there was a small couch, a writing desk beneath a large window, and a large poster bed with a thick white duvet and fluffy pillows Abby wanted to collapse into. Shifting Natalie on her hip, she told her, “Well, this is our room. Can I put you on the bed so I can get us unpacked?” Natalie nodded and as soon as Abby put her down on the edge of the bed, crawled with new found energy up to the top snuggling herself against the pillows. 

“We need to get you a bath and then to bed. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.” Natalie jumped from the bed and took off at a run towards the bathroom. Abby chuckled and took out a set of pink pajamas with little bears. “At least, you’re excited about it.”

An hour later, Abby pulled the covers over them and Natalie snuggled up against her and they both fell quickly asleep.

* * *

Morning came earlier than Abby would have liked. Natalie was already awake looking over at her from the pillow beside her. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled. A warmth filled her chest when Natalie smiled back.

Downstairs, Natalie ate fruit and inhaled two mini apple spiced muffins while Abby drank down three cups of coffee and just barely managed to get down a piece of toast. 

Her stomach was in knots. She tried not to think about what she'd say to him, what he'd say to her when he saw Natalie. Even if he missed the resemblance between them, and even if he didn’t do the quick math when she told him how old she was, she still had to give him  _ some  _ explanation. 

It wasn't like Abby could leave her at the hotel. While she would speak with Marcus alone or out of ear shot of their daughter, initially she had no way to avoid him seeing her.

Unless she found someone with his number before she found him.

That could work too. 

They took a cab to the pub Marcus used to play in old town Edinburgh. The worry weighed on her chest the closer they got and when the normal looking streets filled with grocery stores shops and banks, turned to older looking buildings and churches and the pavement turned to cobblestones she new they were just about there.

The Last Drop came into view. A large gray stone building with black wood and gold lettering. She paid the driver then picked up Natalie and pushed open the heavy, worn oak door. It was the same as she remembered it. A large red brick archway that led down a set of steps where the bar and restaurant sat, and just beyond that, another set of stairs with a dance floor and a stage. The place smelled like ale and old cigars with the hint of food lingering from breakfast. 

A quick glance around the room and she let out a breath. It was sparsely filled, mostly with older locals who ignored her like a woman with a child coming to the pub early in the morning was a regular thing. 

The kid behind the bar had spiky dark blonde hair, and tossed a bar towel over his shoulder when she came up to the bar.

“Hello, lass. What can I get for ya?”

Abby raised her eyebrows. The words, nothing from here came to mind, but then she supposed she was after something. “Actually, I’m looking for someone. He used to work here about four years ago, Marcus Kane?”

The man smiled. “Ah, Marcus. Aye, I know him, but I’m afraid he don’t work here anymore.”

She tried not to let her disappointment show. After all four years was a long time, and she expected as much. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The man pursed his lips then a moment later said, “Last time I saw him was a while ago now. Ya might ask his mother.”

“Do you know where can I find her?”

“She works over at old Saint Paul’s. She should be there now.”

Abby thanked him, and went back out. She expected to see the cab drive had gone off but he still sat there, parked out from like ne had nowhere special to be.

“Can I offer you another lift lassie?”

Abby sagged in relief. “Yes, thank you.”

Another drive, this one longer, into downtown Edinburgh. 

She and Natalie both gazed up at the church. 

“It’s pretty isn’t it? Should we go inside?”

Inside, a choir sung and there were people, and couples sitting in pews, to pray or hear the music she didn't know. 

“Welcome. Hello, there.”

“Hello, I’m looking for Vera Kane -oh, Vera.”

“Oh, Abigail, darlin,” she began and Abby found herself being pulled into a hug. She pulled away but held Abby by the shoulders like she would run away. “It's been so long. Does Marcus know that you're here?”

“He doesn't. I would have called but his number has changed. Do you know where I can find him?”

“Aye, I do, but unfortunately for you, Abby he’s not at home. He’s gone Inverness just yesterday and won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

“Oh.”

“Who's this?”

Abby put her hand on Natalie's back and smiled down at her. “This is my daughter, Natalie.”

Vera's eyes fell to Natalie and then back up to hers. She said nothing for long moments, the wheels in her mind turning, putting everything together and Abby could tell she  _ knew _ . The look in her eyes, the spark of recognition when she looked at Natalie, she saw her son. It was as plain as day. Impossible for a mother to miss.

And it made her heart pound under her scrutiny.

Finally, she smiled and her gentle voice said, “I would be willing ta give you his number. Perhaps you can give him a call? Let him know you're in town before then?”

Abby nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “I would appreciate that, Vera, thank you.”

* * *

 

Marcus met Diana the next morning for breakfast. He preferred the quiet chatter to the obnoxious drum of the pub from the night before. 

Jesus Christ, he was getting old.

“What would you think about moving to London?”

He inhaled the sip of coffee he just started to take, burning his tongue and dripping it down his chin with the jerk of his hand.  _ Fuck _ , he thought. Taking his napkin from his lap he dabbed at his chin and echoed, “London?”

“A real studio working with Macallan on the songs. Not my father’s old run down hole in the wall.”

“Working with him?” he questioned. 

Diana shrugged her shoulders and didn’t meet his eyes when she replied, “He wants some creative say on the songs he sings.”

He blinked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. Why did he get the feeling this hadn’t just been a spur of the moment trip but something she had been planning all along? Hooking a new talent by offering him some say and roping Marcus into it by talking him into taking the boy under his wing, so to speak. The backhanded way she’d gone about the whole thing irritated him. She could have just asked instead 

of dragging him along on this senseless trip. “I'm going to need a week or two to think about this. It's a big decision and I'll need to talk it over with my family.”

“I'll give you a week, Marcus. He's talented and I want to snatch him up before someone else does.”

“You could snatch him up all you want. Doesn’t have to be my songs he sings.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Work with him today and if it doesn't work it doesn't work. We'll go home tomorrow and I won't say another word.”

He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. “Really?”

“Yes, as long as you try to get to know him. He looks up to you, Marcus. I think you'll both really hit it off.”

Marcus eyed her. Unfortunately for her he had caught on to her game long ago, and there was no amount of complimenting him or stroking his ego that would get her what she wanted. “Alright, today. But then I'm going home and I'll give you my answer in a couple weeks.”

“A week.” 

“Fine. But I don't want bothered until then. I'm going on a trip and I won't give you an answer until then.”

“Deal.”

He just wanted to go home. Whether she liked it or not, he was going to New York and if she could wait a sodding week or however long it took him there, she could find someone else to write her bloody songs.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to get to all the updates. Things have been busy. Also, as I am impatient this is un-betaed. All mistakes (commas and run-ons) are all, sadly, mine. Still, I hope you enjoy.

“How about we go have some fun for the rest of the day?”

Natalie’s warm eyes blinked up at her, a small smile pulling those lips up as she nodded.

Abby smiled in return. “Good. Let’s go.”

They went into town. Into a shop called the Treehouse. She hadn't had time to buy many things for Natalie before they left the states. So she went all out. She bought her little plaid dresses, long-sleeved shirts, and warm sweaters. Leggings with rainbows and polka-dots, and little boots because if Scotland was anything it was constantly damp. Barrettes and bows for her hair and a little backpack that looked like a bumblebee which made Natalie smile so big and bright Abby almost bought her two.

She picked her out some books to read to her at bedtime, sketchbooks with pencils and crayons. She had no idea how long they’ll be there. They had almost another day until Marcus would be back in town and who knows how many days before she could see him. And, depending on his reaction, she planned to be there as long as need be. As long as he wanted them there.

Natalie pointed to a little tea set, and Abby was more than happy to spoil her. She had three years to make up for. They got the tea set and then Abby helped her pick out three plush friends to have because what was a tea party without guests? Her daughter silently picked from the wall of stuffed animals, a yellow frog, a purple elephant, and a brown bunny.

Her eyes light up when Abby praised her choices. They left the shop hand in hand and waited in the warm taxi while the kind, round man with the sandy blonde hair and glasses filled the boot of his car with their purchases.

She and Natalie had dinner downstairs and then after Natalie’s bath, Abby dressed her in her pink pajamas and let her play with her new toys while she took tags off of clothes and thought about all the different ways she would tell Marcus about their little girl.

_ Marcus, those two months we spent together, well, surprise you’re a father! _ Abby rolled her eyes up to the ceiling at herself. Maybe she should start with something a little less startling. Maybe start with a hello, then work Natalie into the conversation before apologizing for not telling him when she found out almost two months later? Or when she thought she lost their baby girl?

Thinking about that time, the memories that came rushing back to her made her eyes burn and her chest ache. She would never get over the pain. Even now looking at her daughter alive and playing not more than five feet from her, the soul-crushing pain was still there. Less so now, but oh so prominent and she didn't want it to leave because it made her appreciate where they were now all the more. Made the gratitude she felt burst in her chest, made her look at her daughter each and every day with a white-hot, searing love she’d never known possible.

A few times since she made the decision to come to Scotland, she thought about how she should have waited knowing that soon she would have to share her. But she dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they had come.

There wasn’t a day that had gone by she hadn’t thought of what her life might have been like if she had just listened to her heart and gotten on a plane to Scotland.

Her gaze was drawn over to Natalie when she heard the softest of hums from her. She was sitting her little friends up around in a circle around plates and teacups. The sound coming from the little girl was almost a tune, but it was so faint Abby couldn’t make it out.

Tears burned, and she turned away from her to wipe the wetness that’d escaped from her cheeks. She didn’t want Natalie to think she was upset when it was completely the opposite. Her speaking, she knew would take some time. And she’d been fine knowing she would have to wait, but each smile, each time she reached for her had given her more and more hope. But  _ this _ ... This somehow felt like more.

Abby waited until after Natalie was tucked into bed sound asleep after a story, to take out the number written on the paper Vera gave to her. She stared at it, unsure what exactly it was that made her hesitate. There was the thought of what he might say, sure, but it was what in  _ his  _ life she might disrupt that kept her from pressing call. Four years was a long time, and Marcus was…  _ is _ funny and smart and handsome. It would be a miracle if he was still single.

Surely, he had a wife and kids of his own? He and she spent two months together not two years. What if he didn't even remember her?

She left out a soft scoff at how dramatic her thoughts were. If his mother remembered her, he would. 

She tapped the phone to her chin; her attention drawn away as Natalie turned on her side. When she had settled again Abby got up from the bed and made her way over to the door. She left it open a crack, so she could hear if Natalie woke and leaned back against the wall. The house was built long ago and smelled of old things.  It was comforting in a way that it reminded her of her grandmother’s hugs. She took a deep breath drawing that comfort before she brought up his name once again and pressed call.

* * *

 

They left Inverness earlier than planned, and they had stopped on the way to grab lunch before making their way back home with Macallan. He shared a few pieces of pizza with him while Diana picked through her salad rambling to her father on the phone about interviews and meetings. 

He stepped outside while she finished, ready to get back on the road wanting more than anything to have this trip over with. His mum had called him earlier that morning and he wasn’t exactly sure what for. She asked about how he was getting on with Macallan, and he told her the kid wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, though the lad was full of himself and would be until he got knocked to the ground a few times. She hummed and was quiet for the longest time until he asked her how things were at home. She’d given him an airy reply, about everything being right as rain then asking him if he’d spoken to anyone recently. It was an odd sort of question that had his brow furrowing and asking, “Sorry?”

She hummed again then told him she had to get going. To call her when they got close to town so she would know when to expect him then promptly hung up before he could ask her any more questions. 

Hours later he leaned back against his seat, the driver just having dropped off Diana and Macallan was now taking him home still another hour away. He rubbed his eyes. It’d been a long week and was about to get longer. Now that he was home, he could start making plans. He’d buy his plane ticket tonight and then figure out how he was going to explain it to his family later. No longer would he ignore the feeling in his gut. The one that spoke and felt of regrets and what-ifs. This time he was listening. This time nothing was stopping him.

His phone began ringing, and he didn't recognize the number that came up. He thought for a moment of letting it go to voicemail but with a nephew who liked to get himself into trouble, he knew better than to ignore it. 

It was late but not too late. Not so late enough that he should be as tired as he was.

“Hello?” There was a pause and was long enough to make him pull the phone away from his ear to make sure the call had not disconnected. 

“Marcus?”

He had to strain himself to hear the caller, but he was sure he had her the voice say his name. “Aye, who’s this?”

“It’s… it’s Abby.”

Marcus was grateful he’d been sitting because if he was standing he would have fallen on the floor. “Abby?” his own voice whispered. His mind reeled. Was he dreaming? This had to be a dream. How did she… how could she… “Where… what… How’d you get my number?”

There was a soft laugh, and oh, Christ knew that laugh. “From your mother.”

His eyes widened. That’s what his mum had been on about. But if she got the number from his mother did that mean…? “My mother? Are you in Scotland, then? I called the hospital a few days ago they said you'd had a family emergency?”

“You called?”

He suddenly felt sheepish and felt heat rise in his neck and was suddenly glad he wasn’t standing in front of her. “Yeah, sorry. I… I know it’s been a long time, but I wanted to talk to you. To see how you were doing.”

“Marcus, no, I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish I would have been there to take the call.”

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “Well, you’re here now, yeah?”

“I am. I was hoping I could see you?”

He sat up straight, stared out the window wondering how the driver would take it if he asked him to put the gas pedal to the floor. “Of course, I’d love to see you. I won’t be back home for another hour or so, though. Do you want to meet for a drink? How long do you plan on staying?”

“Oh, I'd love to meet you tonight, but I'm still so jet-lagged,” she said, his spirits falling until she added, “but If you're not busy in the morning we could have breakfast, maybe?”

He smiled. “Breakfast will work. Where are you staying?”

“Averon Guest House.”

“Ah, I know just where you are. It’s a nice place, if not a bit stuffy.” He sighed and let his head fall back against the headrest. A thought struck him and he asked the question before he could regret the words. “Are you… are you traveling with your family or… friends?”

His eyes closed. Brilliant. Perfectly well said. Not obvious at all. 

But she seemed to know what he'd been implying and didn’t seem to mind because her voice gentle and said, “No, it’s just me.”

“Oh.”  _ Thank bloody Christ and all his saints, _ he thought and sank farther into the seat if that were possible. 

It was her turn for her voice to sound unsure and the slow spreading ache of missing her bloomed ten-fold when she asked, “How about you? I won’t be pulling you away from getting home to any of yours?”

He snorted a laugh that came mostly from relief. “Only my mum and a couple of wee devils for a niece and nephew. They can live without seeing me a little while longer.” He sighed. “God, Abby, it’s good to hear the sound of your voice again.”

“Yours too.” He thought he heard a soft sob followed by a sniff and even the thought she could be crying made his own tears well in his eyes. He heard something in the background then, she whispered something too quiet for him to make out. “I’m sorry, I have to go but I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Absolutely you will,” he promised. “I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink.”

Her laugh was soft, and it made his top teeth sink into his bottom lip remembering how beautiful she was when she laughed. “I don’t think I will either. Good night, Marcus.”

“Good night, Abby.”

He waited on the line until she hung up and dropped the phone down beside him and rubbed his hands over his face. All this time he was planning to go and find her and she had been doing the same thing. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning Abby made her way downstairs with a yawning Natalie on her hip. It’d been a long night for them. Natalie had woken up and found her in the hallway outside their room, catching her while she’d been talking to Marcus. Her timing had been good, there wasn’t much more she wanted to say, at least not on the phone. When she laid down with her, Natalie had been restless, tossing and turning not wanting to settle down. Abby knew the feeling. Thoughts and scenarios about the following day played through her mind, keeping sleep at bay from her too. Eventually, she turned on the light and she and Natalie read story after story from the books Abby had bought her. Almost an hour went by before they both started to yawn.

Mackenzie was at the front desk, and Abby made her way over to her. “Is there a park for children near a cafe or restaurant in town?”

The young woman looked thoughtful a moment before she said, “Aye, there’s the Meadows. There are lots of shops and cafes to have your pick of. Not too far from here either.”

“Great, thank you.” Abby started to make her way into the dining room to get some tea and toast when an idea came to her. Turning around she went back over to Mackenzie. “Actually, can I ask you for a favor later?”

* * *

Marcus took the steps up to the doors of Abby’s hotel feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He hadn’t slept a wink after talking with Abby. He’d been too amazed, too shocked to even bring himself to think about how exhausted he was. There were too many questions, so many things he’d wished he had asked that it wasn’t until sometime after the sun had risen he started to feel sleeps pull. He set his alarm and let himself nap. An hour later he was back up and getting ready to go meet with her.

When he stepped inside, he came to the stop at the sight of a woman sitting at the front desk. Her hair a shockingly bright blue, with thick white rimmed glasses. A dark-haired little girl sat on her lap, both of them looking intently at the paper on which the little girl was coloring. They only looked up when the sound of the door closed behind him.

“Can I help you?” the woman with the blue hair asked.

“No, thanks.” He smiled and gestured upstairs. “I’m here to see a friend.”

“Go on then.” She waved him away from the desk but the little girl held his gaze. He waved to her and smiled. The action made her look down shyly. He shook his head and chuckled. She reminded him of Octavia when she was little. An adorable, little silent thing until she got used to you.

He reached the second floor and all thoughts of the little girl and the young woman with the blue hair at the front desk fled his mind. He couldn’t believe he was there. That Abby was just inside the room he was standing in front of. He took a deep breath, raised his hand and knocked.  

The door opened not more than a few heartbeats later and then there she was. Her hair was a bit longer, but she looked the same as the last time he saw her.

“Marcus.”

“Abby,” he breathed. “It’s good to see you. You look the same as the day you left.”

She smiled and he was delighted to see her cheeks pink a bit as she stepped back and gestured him inside.

When he turned back to her,  she smiled ruefully. “I could almost say the same about you except for this.”

She went right up to him without hesitation and ran her hand over his beard. This was his Abby. He chuckled feeling lighter than he had in years. “Right. I thought it made me distinguished.”

“It makes you look older,” she told him with a raised eyebrow.

“Not too old, I hope?”

She had to bite her lip to keep her smile from broadening. “Just enough. Thank you for agreeing to come to see me.”

“It wasn’t a hardship, I assure you.”

“Can we sit down for a minute?”

“Of course.” He followed her over to two chairs beside the window and watched as she twisted her hands together. “Abby, is something wrong?”

“No, not wrong.” She gazed down on her hands then rubbed them over her thighs before looking at him. “There’s just something I need to tell you and I hope you’ll let me explain before you say anything.”

Here it was. She was going to tell him that she was with someone. He saw no ring but that didn’t mean anything. He knew this was a possibility when he came. She was just in town and wanted to clear the air perhaps. It pained him greatly, but he only wanted her happiness. If this was to be it, he’d give it to her. HIs blessing.

Preparing himself for the worst, with his nod, she started at the beginning, but it wasn’t the beginning he was expecting.

It was the beginning of her leaving Edinburgh all those years ago. Getting home, discovering she was pregnant, the treachery that followed from her father. He sat, frozen in his spot, listening like it wasn't his child she was talking about. Her eyes filled with tears when she talked about going into early labor, blacking out, and waking to her father telling her- _their_ daughter was gone. He felt the ache in his chest as though he had been there. And he wasn't sure how or why, but when she paused to wipe the tears from her face and take a breath, he knew it wasn't the end of the story. Knew with his entire being that the reason why she was here four years later was not to tell him their child was dead. So he didn't interrupt. He listened longer, and sure enough, soon a smile joined her tears and lit up her face as she told him how she found out their _daughter_ was alive.

Her smile hadn’t lasted long, however. Her face crumpled soon after, making him wish there wasn’t so much distance between them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marcus, I should have told you,” her words were whispered and followed by a choked back sob that broke him from the trance he was currently under. He didn't think, he just moved. Marcus got to his feet and closed the distance between them pulling her from the chair and into his arms. “At first, I wanted to. I almost came back, but then my father convinced me to wait until after the baby was born but then... when I thought she was gone…” She pulled away, and he looked down into her dark, tear-filled eyes. “I wanted to call you but it hurt so much I wanted to spare you what I felt. I thought you were better off not knowing, but I wanted you there. God, I wanted so much for you to be there with me… You would have been so much stronger than me. I keep thinking if I had maybe we would have found her sooner.”

“But you did find her, Abby. As soon as you could.”

“Marcus, do you think… Can you ever…”

“Abby, stop. I know what you’re asking.” He took her face between his palms. “While I can’t say I’m not… I do wish you’d have told me sooner, but,” he paused and let out a breath, “I understand why you didn’t.”

“I was a coward. I should have stood up to him, I should have gone back…”

“Abby, let’s not talk about that now. What matters is that you did find her, that she’s here. That you’re both here. We can’t change the past no matter how much we both wish that we could.”

“We are here,” she murmured and that soft smile he loved so much came back. “Do you want to meet her?”

He smiled. “I do… where…” he began but then his breath caught in his chest. He remembered coming into the Inn. The woman at the front with the blue hair and the little girl on her lap with the dark hair and eyes, and smile like… He looked around the room and for the first time noticed the stuffed animals on the bed and the little tea set on the table. His eyes found Abby’s once again. “The little one downstairs?”

“Yes.” She raised her hand and cupped his cheek. “She’s ours. Her name is Natalie.”

_Natalie._

He placed his hand over hers and swallowed nearly overcome with a feeling so profound had she not been standing there with him he may have fallen to his knees. “Aye, I’d like to meet her.”

Her gaze fell a moment then her eyes were back on his. Her expression softened to something a little sadder than what it had been only seconds ago. “Before I bring her up, you should know, she hasn’t spoken yet.”

“Is she alright? Is something wrong?”

“No, I mean yes, physically she’s healthy as can be. She has something called select mutism. It sometimes happens with small children who experience post-traumatic stress.” More tears slipped down her cheeks, and she swiped them away as she explained, “Her adoptive parents who took her after she was born, got divorced about a year ago and neither wanted… they didn’t want to keep Natalie. They placed her into a home for children. She’s been making progress since then. With time she will be fine. I just want you to be prepared when she doesn’t answer you right away, but she will. She just needs our patience and our love.” She started to turn away from him but then turned back. “Also, I want you to know I’ll understand if you need some time to think about whether you want to be a part of her life-”

His eyes widened. Was she serious? He cut in then. “I don’t need time to think about it. I want to be.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips pulled up. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Except you.”

He watched her eyes fill and it took all of his will power not to pull her back into his arms. “I had hoped so. I think we should wait to tell her who you are exactly. She’s been through so much, at least for a little while, until she gets to know you a little.”

He stopped her there. He trusted Abby and knew she would only suggest that if it was what was best for the child. “Abby, you don’t have to explain. Whatever is best for her that’s what we’ll do.”

Before he knew it, she was in his arms, her arms wrapped around him. He closed his eyes; his own arms tightened around her. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered into his chest.  

He kissed the top of her head, and murmured, “Don’t think this lets you off scot-free. I know it was you who ran off with my favorite sweater.”

Abby laughed and hearing it warmed his heart even more if that were possible. He didn’t know how long they stood there, it could have been hours or mere moments but not long enough. Only too soon she was pulling away giving him a weak smile before saying, “I’ll be right back.”

He tried to sit but his nerves had him up and pacing the room. He had a daughter. He almost couldn’t believe it. He shook his head, letting out a huff of laughter at his earlier worries. Christ Almighty, if he had only known…

Sooner than he expected, Abby was back, leading the little girl into the room by the hand. As soon as Natalie’s eyes gazed up at him she stepped behind her mother’s legs. Abby knelled and whispered something into the little girl’s ear. He couldn’t quite hear what it was, but he was able to make out the words, _don't be afraid_ and _a friend_.

Natalie chanced another glance at him around Abby.

Marcus took a few steps toward them then knelt so that he was eye level with her. She looked at Abby who gave her a soft smile and an encouraging nod. “Natalie, this… this is my good friend, Marcus.”

As hard as he tried to fight them off tears, they couldn’t be helped. “Hello, Natalie,” he said voice breaking slightly which he tried to cover with a smile. “You’re as pretty as your mum.”

He held out his hand, hopeful she’d come closer so he could see her better. As much as he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and hold her tight, she didn’t know him from Adam. Something like that would only scare her.

Her eyes held his, and he felt like smirking she was so serious the way that she took him in, studied him. She was so much like her mother. After a moment she held out her hand, and he took it. It was soft and so so small in his.

“I’m so happy to meet you,” he told her with a smile he was sure he’d wear for weeks.


End file.
